Shattering the Ley Read Online Free PDF

ever occurred in Canter; nothing like this ever would. This was why he’d left, why he’d journeyed to the city, the hope of joining the Dogs burning inside him. In Canter, the most he could hope for was life as a guard for a local merchant. In Erenthrall. . . .
    In Erenthrall, he could be anything he wanted.
    “Sacrilege!”
    Allan turned as the shout broke through the awe that held the group at the windows. He glared around at the surrounding people, most still transfixed by the sowing of the tower, their faces awash in the white light from the Nexus below. But near the center of the windows, people were stepping back, eyes wide in shock.
    “It’s a desecration!” a man’s voice bellowed, roaring out above those gathered. “It’s blasphemy! We are cavorting with a power that we cannot control and it is not natural!”
    Allan shoved forward through the press of guests, thrusting lords and ladies alike aside as a sickening sense of foreboding drove daggers into his gut. Men cursed and stumbled out of his path, wax splattering from their candles, and women shot him black looks. But he focused on the window, where the crush of people had opened up into an empty circle. He couldn’t see the man, but he could hear him as the tirade continued and he knew who it was, knew it even before he caught sight of his green shirt.
    “The ley was not meant to be harnessed,” the man cried, his voice rising. “It was not meant to be leashed. We are subverting a natural power, one tied to the earth. Even our ancestors knew this! We can see it in the stones, in the sacred grounds that our ancestors worshipped! They revered this power, gave it the respect it deserves! We abuse it!”
    Allan reached the edge of the circle where the press of bodies became too great for him to charge through. He barked, “Dog! Out of my way!” and tried to press forward, but the lords and ladies didn’t move. He could see the green-shirted man now, could see him as the deranged man paced back and forth before the window, the white blaze of the ley behind him as it fountained higher, the writhing vines of the tower struggling upward. He flung his arms wide, and as he did, Allan caught sight of something odd beneath his loose shirt. But the dagger the man suddenly produced distracted him, filling him with a sense of dread. He didn’t have time to wonder how he’d managed to get the blade past the guards, didn’t have time to react at all. The man’s face was strained with righteous anger, eyes blazing with rage as he gestured toward the sowing with the blade in his hand.
    “This is the latest desecration, the latest folly of our Baron! The Wielders pervert nature to our needs, twist the ley to their own purposes, suppress the land and its natural laws to build this city, to give us comfort, to provide for us, and it is time to stop! It is time to halt the sacrilege! It is time to return the ley to its proper course!”
    Allan heard someone shout his name over the man’s fervor and caught sight of Hagger and two other Dogs on the far side of the room, farther away than Allan and trapped by the crush of bodies. Hagger’s face was livid with pure rage. The Dog snapped his hands in a short, final gesture whose message was clear: “Stop it! End it now!”
    Allan spun back to the green-shirted man in time to see him slash down across his own chest with the dagger.
    Women screamed, two fainting, and men cried out as liquid spilled outward, splattering the floor, drenching the front of the man’s body. The crowd surged backward and away, the space between the man and the lords suddenly widening. Allan was thrust back, someone’s elbow catching him hard in the side, but with a deep, low growl, he roared again, “Out of my way, damn it!” and grabbed the man before him by the shoulders, hauling him back and to the side. The man fell with a harsh, panicked cry, taking two more guests with him, but opening up a space into the circle. Allan leaped